


Were You Really So Blind?

by MostlyStars



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: M/M, Mentioned suicide, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:54:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9808181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyStars/pseuds/MostlyStars
Summary: Melchior confronts Ilse after Moritz's death.





	

“And for homework, finish the worksheet you got at the start of class. There are a few things we didn’t cover, but I hope you can figure them out on your own.”

The bell rings as the teacher finishes his speech. The class jumps to their feet with backpacks slung across shoulders, myself included. I slow my steps to the door, though. I have someone to talk to.

Ilse is one of the last to leave the class. I walk out the door before her, but as soon as she steps into the hall, I grab her arm.

“Hey!” she protests. When she sees that it is me, she relaxes. “Oh, hey, Melchior.”

“Ilse,” I say in greeting. I pull her across the hallway to Mr. Jones’ classroom. It stays empty for the last two periods of the day and the only light in the room comes from the window.

“What are we doing?” she asks calmly as I pull out a borrowed -- if that term can be used loosely -- staff key and unlock the door.

With both of us inside and the door locked once again, I let go of her arm. “We need to talk.”

She noticeably tenses. “Does it have to be now? I might miss something next period?”

“Oh, really?” I say. “That didn’t seem to concern you when you missed the last week and a half of school.”

She gives a small nod and then sits herself on top of one of the desks. “Fair point. What’s up?”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions buried down. I’ve had my words planned out for two weeks and I have no use for my heart.

I rarely ever have. Just a head full of logic to get me by.

I walk over to stand in front of the teacher’s desk. “So, I heard you were there when Moritz was… running.” My voice falters on the last word and I curse at myself in my head.

Ilse looks surprised for a moment, but nods.

“What happened then?” I ask.

She bites her lip nervously, then starts in: “I just-- I ran into him. In the woods. And we talked. We talked about--”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I cut in. My throat has already tightened merely thinking about this, about Moritz, about when he--

“Oh,” she says. “Well, uh, we talked and then I asked if he wanted to hang out. I mean, I saw he was distressed, but you know I figured it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed with a little talking, or maybe just being with a friend.”

I feel my hands clench into fists, but force them to relax.

“He just kept refusing and I…” She looks down. “I guess I got frustrated and just left.”

_ How dare you leave him _ \--

My mind is already racing with retorts and angry remarks, but I press them down and pick my next words carefully. “I was the one who found him, you know.”

She raises a hand to her mouth. “No, oh my God -- I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well.” I force a look of nonchalance. I think back on the next question in my planned speech, but Ilse cuts through my thoughts.

“So, why did you need to talk?” she asks. Then she adds, “I mean, if you just want to share, that’s fine, but… I don’t know,” she trails off.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” The words enter the room without permission and with too much force to be merely curious.

Her face responds by shaping into a look of pity. “Oh, Melchi…”

“ _ No _ ,” I say, trying to backtrack. “Just… what made you think he was okay enough to be by himself?” The words are more calm, and I attempt to school my features once more.

She screws up her face. “I-- I don’t know. It’s just, he’s Moritz, you know? He’s always liked to be by himself, and honestly, I wasn’t thinking of anything except for how he kept looking at me. Like I was a stranger! Even after all that time we spent together as kids…”

“Well, did you even stop to think of how he was feeling?” Once again, the words are too harsh, too much. Those were not in the plan. This was not supposed to go this way.

A look of hurt crosses her face. “I guess I didn’t… But I don’t think I’m the one to blame for this. He’s been pretty messed up for a while--”

I take a couple quick steps toward her. “Messed up?” I ask roughly. “Is that how you saw him? Just something that was broken and left behind? Because he wasn’t, you know. He was my  _ friend _ , and I  _ knew  _ him. And you didn’t!”

“Melchior?” she asks, hopping down from the desk with a look of concern.

I can feel hot tears starting to fall from my eyes, but I’m too far into this to care or stop now. “How could you not see that he was hurting? It was obvious in everything he did! You let him go, without so much as a thought. And now he’s  _ gone. _ ” My voice breaks on the last word and I put up a hand to cover my face.

“No one knew,” Ilse says softly, reaching out a comforting hand.

I step back out of her reach. “No. Don’t. You’re the one who should feel bad. You left him! You left him there, by himself. He didn’t have  _ anyone _ . And it’s all on you! You should feel terrible!” I shout the last words.

Her face tightens in pain, but her voice remains level. “Melchior, I’m sorry, I really am. But I just didn’t know--”

“Of course you didn’t! You -- Ilse -- You’re blind! You go off by yourself, into your head. All you have are your own ideas and you never stop to think of anyone else.”

I see her blink back tears. Her gaze, at one point in the conversation defiant, has now melted into something of remorse.

It stops me.

For a moment, I distinctly feel everything around me. I feel my too-quick breaths, my rapidly falling tears. I look down at my shaking hands.

I close my eyes and run my hands through my hair, a nervous habit that took me years to overcome. “Ilse, I’m so sorry. That’s not true, none of it is.”

She takes a step toward me. “No, Melchior, you’re right. You can say all those things fairly. I didn’t see it and I should have. I was always off somewhere, barely around him and then when I was, I didn’t pay enough attention.”

I stand frozen, without a word to say.

“But if you’re going to say those things about me, then the same can be said about you.” Her words are without menace, but they hit me and take my breath away.

I look at my shaking hands once again, recognizing the truth all too well. “Oh my God,” I whisper, letting my weight fall back against a desk. Then I just let myself sink to the floor as I understand.

I wasn’t saying any of those things to Ilse. I was saying them to myself.

Ilse gets down on her knees. “Melchior…” she says softly, sadly. Then she wraps her arms around me, and I let myself be supported. I let myself relax and I soon start sobbing into her shoulder.

For everything I said to her.

For what I couldn’t say to myself.

For what I did to Moritz, what I didn’t do for him. I wasn’t there for him. I didn’t see it. I was there for the outcome, the aftermath.

The fear of finding him, lying there. Then discovering he was-- wasn’t--

At first I didn’t call anyone. I didn’t shout for help or search for someone else who knew what to do. I just… let myself understand. Let myself realize what had happened and all that it meant. That Moritz wouldn’t be around anymore. Ever again.

I had to give myself the time then, because I knew I couldn’t show it when everyone was around. Moritz’s parents would have too much to deal with, my own would worry too much about me. I would have to be stronger than the feelings.

And the realization that Moritz’s death was my fault. Because of what I never did for him.

But I pushed it back and pushed it down. Until I found out that Ilse had been there with Moritz before he took his life. Then I had reason to get angry. An excuse. An object.

And now this.

“Ilse…” I say into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“No, listen,” she says, gently detaching herself from me, but still kneeling. “Do you want to know what Moritz talked about?”

I am scared to hear, but I nod slowly.

“School. His homework. It was nonsense, Melchi.”

“You mean, he didn’t mention that he was going to… Or why?” I ask.  _ Or me? _ I don’t add.

She shakes her head. “He wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sure of it.  _ That’s _ the ‘why’ you’re looking for. And maybe it wasn’t anybody’s fault, but maybe it was everybody’s, too.”

In my head, with my logic, my rational thought -- everything I thought I needed to get by -- I know she’s right. No one could have known. Everyone should have known.

But I give in to my heart and let myself cry. This time, for him.


End file.
